


send for me to your side

by thatsparrow



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drinking & Talking, F/M, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25874785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsparrow/pseuds/thatsparrow
Summary: They're four days from the nearest outpost at Asteria when their fuel reserves dip into the metaphorical red. To conserve enough power to get them through the last, limping leg of the journey, Banner and Heimdall suspend or reduce whichever secondary systems they can afford to lose; heat is one of the first to go.
Relationships: Brunnhilde | Valkyrie/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Yellow Team





	send for me to your side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [days4daisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/gifts).



> is this actually how spaceships work? absolutely no idea
> 
> title from "mess of me" by tarkio

They're four days from the nearest outpost at Asteria when their fuel reserves dip into the metaphorical red. To conserve enough power to get them through the last, limping leg of the journey, Banner and Heimdall suspend or reduce whichever secondary systems they can afford to lose; heat is one of the first to go.

"It'll suck, sure," Banner says around their ad hoc meeting table. "But we'll survive, and that's the most important thing. Besides, while the ship isn't exactly geared for deep space travel, we're definitely not short of beds and blankets—I'm pretty sure there are even a couple cases of self-warming lubes in one of the supply closets. We might have to get creative, but we should be alright."

Two days later, though, and Val's not so sure. While their first step was to equitably divvy up all the bedding and towels and anything remotely fabric-adjacent, the Asgardians themselves had little clothing but what they'd carried on their backs while fleeing Hela, and so extra layers are difficult to find and coveted fiercely. Val briefly considers bartering Dragonfang just for a secondhand pair of woolen socks.

"Loki says he doesn't see what all the fuss is about," Thor says from her doorway later that evening, wearing not nearly enough, as far as she can tell, not when she can see the skin at his wrists and neck. "I told him that he'll always be my brother, by blood or no, but that I wouldn't mind sharing some of his Jotunn heritage at the moment. Likely I wouldn't feel much discomfort either if my biology was built for an ice planet."

"Before landing on Sakaar, I did some galaxy hopping." Val's wrapped herself in a blanket as tightly as she can manage while still allowing her elbow enough room to lift the bottle of rose-colored liquor to her mouth (it tastes like asphalt coated in cherries, but at least burns hot as Hel as it runs down her throat and into her stomach. Still, even between the weight of the comforter and the tar-flavored heat of the drink, she can feel the cold worked down to her bones.) "Anywhere I could find that wouldn't recognize the symbol of the Valkyrior and sold booze by the gallon. One of the places I stopped was a planet on the outer edge of a star system—Frigus 9, I think it was?—the whole surface frozen over and covered in glaciers the size of continents. People used to decide who'd pay for the next round based on who had the most toes left." Val smiles, a little wry (or as best as she can manage with her lips trembling.) "Logically, I know that was colder than this, but right now, I'm having a hard time convincing myself." She blinks at him. "Did you know that you're shivering, Your Majesty?"

"Is that why my teeth sound so loud?"

"I can hear them from here. Early on, the Frigans taught me the benefits of sharing warmth for staving off the chill." (Technically, she'd learned it after sweet-talking a Frigan bartender with sharp eyes and deft fingers who'd tangled around her like a second skin, but she leaves that part out.) Val shifts under the blanket, unwrapping herself enough to lift her arm, carving out a small hollow of space next to her. "That's to say, you're welcome to join me, if you like—and not just because I'm pretty sure it'd violate my oath if I allowed you to freeze to death."

"You're kind to offer, but I'm alright. Truly." While they've got the time, Loki should teach him to become a better liar; Val can see his hands trembling from across the room. She rolls her eyes. "Don't be foolish, Your Majesty. I'm pretty sure we've all passed the point of indulging in pride or propriety. Yesterday, I saw someone who'd refashioned a pair of padded handcuffs into wristwarmers."

"Clever."

"I'm sure the Grandmaster would be proud. Or appalled—they were probably very expensive." She raises her arm a little more, looking at him pointedly. "Well? If you let me lose anymore heat this way while waiting for you, I might have to start plotting an assassination attempt."

"Then you leave me little option, I suppose," Thor says, crossing the room to where she's seated. He's broad enough in the shoulders that it's a stretch for the comforter to enfold them both, but eventually they work out a solution, pressed together shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip. Already she feels slightly warmer.

"Any news from Heimdall?" Val asks, offering him the liquor.

"He says we should reach Asteria early the day after tomorrow, permitting our current speed holds." Thor accepts the bottle, wincing a little when he catches the smell of it, wincing further after he takes a long pull. "Never mind the question of how we'll pay to refuel, but one problem at a time, I suppose— _fuck_ , that's awful," he says, wiping his mouth as he takes another drink. "Norns, it's like melted pitch and sugared fruit. You'd think the Grandmaster would've been able to afford better."

"Perhaps it suited him?" Val shrugs. "His tastes did tend to run towards the—unusual. Still, it's warm, and for that alone I'd happily finish a case of the stuff."

"Cheers to that," Thor says before passing the bottle back to her. He's smiling, but even in profile, Val can see that it's a little strained, unconvincing as a gilt surface where the paint has begun to flake. She bumps his shoulder with her own.

"You are doing well, you know," she says. "With the whole ruling thing, I mean. Granted, my experience with Asgardian royalty is limited to Odin and Hela, but I'd hardly place much faith in them if faced with a similar challenge. Certainly there'd be less empathy for how the people fared."

Thor laughs a little. "No, I don't particularly see _Hela_ and _empathy_ working together in the same sentence—unless it was something to the effect of, _Hela demonstrated a notable lack of empathy in her slaughter_." His smile fades. "My father, on the other hand—I'd like to believe that he became a different sort of man in the millennia after Hela's imprisonment, but I also find it difficult to imagine him prioritizing the needs of his citizens over his own desires." 

"Asgardian refugees sharing blankets in a half-defunct spaceship doesn't make for quite so grand a mural."

"No," Thor says. His mouth twists. "Thought it would call for less red paint."

"That's Odin's legacy, it doesn't have to be yours—and not just because you're short an army to wage all the bloody conquest." Val looks at him steady, now, sees the rough shadows that sleeplessness has cast under his eyes, a new collection of hair-fine lines across his forehead. She smiles at him, shoots for something as close to earnest and reassuring as she can manage. "Ease up, Your Majesty. You're not your father, and—given the extent to which it preoccupies you—not at risk of becoming him. Even if I only ever knew Odin from a distance, it was evident that his concerns fell primarily with securing his own legacy before they did protecting the citizenry. Certainly he wasn't the sort of man who'd voluntarily forgo his own creature comforts until having been assured that the rest of his people were taken care of—to choose an example at random." Val prods at Thor's cheek, nearly blue from the cold; perhaps he'll get his wish of becoming Jotunn after all.

"I'm _fine_ ," Thor says. For all his insistence, the message is somewhat undercut by the slight chattering of his teeth. "There are those faring far worse than myself, and I have my own methods of keeping warm." He summons a quick shower of sparks from his fingertips. Val raises an eyebrow.

"Lightning?"

"Lightning's warm, right?"

"Sure, if you use it to set something on fire."

Thor laughs. "Perhaps I'll subscribe to your methods then." He commandeers the bottle from her hand and takes another long pull. "Norns, it _truly_ only gets worse."

"Next time I'll look for something more top-shelf."

"I'll hold you to that."

It's not particularly late, but the alcohol is as strong as it is vile, and soon enough Val feels a familiar headiness, muscles turned lazy and loose. Without really being aware of it—without being aware of much beyond the seam of heat where Thor is pressed against her—Val shifts a little closer toward him and he lifts his arm obligingly, allowing her to settle closer against his side. 

"Comfortable?" Her eyes are falling closed, but she can hear the smile in his voice.

"Getting there—I still can't quite feel my toes. You?"

"Dangerously so. You'll have to be careful not to let me fall asleep." 

Val snorts. "I don't need the All-Sight to catch you yawning during our council meetings. I'm fairly sure some rest would do you good."

"I do have my own room, though, if you'd like me to leave." His tone turns hesitant. Val rolls her eyes.

"Please, Your Majesty. If I wanted you gone, you'd be well aware of it by now, if not already in the hallway. There's a high likelihood that knives would be involved, as well as a distinct lack of mincing words." He exhales a laugh and a ribbon of warmth runs through Val, sweet as the sugared cherry flavor of the drink. "Besides, you can't go now, not when this is the least-cold I've been in two days."

"Well, in that case—" Thor tilts his head back, settles a little further against the headboard. His arm is a comforting weight around her shoulders. "How could I refuse? It'd be irresponsible of me, even, to neglect one of my citizens in need."

"My hero," Val says, more asleep than not, more serious than she intends. Blame the liquor for turning her tongue so loose.

"Hardly," Thor says. His voice goes quiet enough that she nearly misses it, warm enough to heat her from toe to tip. "You, on the other hand, are undoubtedly mine." 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to ba_lailah for looking over!


End file.
